


Dangerous Paths

by Arabella6



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drug Use, Friendship, Gen, relationship, sherlock/oc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabella6/pseuds/Arabella6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman from Sherlock's past makes a reappearance, bringing with her a torment she can't seem to shake. Something big is going on, and Sherlock finds himself becoming apart of it. Sherlock/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I'm a big fan of Sherlock and since the third season just ended I thought I'd write an idea I had to keep me entertained throughout hiatus. You know those fanfics you always look for? I've always had one in my min but couldn't find the right one so I just decided to write it myself. I haven't written a non-Marvel fanfic before so here goes, but really it's just a creative outlet for me, I'm not a great Sherlock fanfic writer. Anyway, this story takes place probably in middle of series 2 where mostly everything is established. However in my story, Irene Adler doesn't exist. I love her in the series and all other works, but my character is so much like her and I didn't think it would work with two similar characters for obvious reasons. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

''That's that man over there,''

''Where? What man?''

''The man I was telling you about. He can solve any crime. I went to him once about my car when it was stolen and he told me who did it in five minutes! He's on the telly sometimes.''

The two elderly ladies gossiped about the man over their coffee, looking over to him occasionally to make sure he couldn't hear them, although if he was as smart as they were claiming, he would have known. The woman next to them flipped the page of the daily paper, rolling her eyes subtly every time the women would continue their praise of the detective.

Sherlock Holmes stared out the window of the small cafe, scanning the streets for an unknown reason. That's what it looked like to other people, that he was searching for something, but he was just observant.

''The prices have gone up,''

''Divorce,''

John looked over to his friend, confused.

''Sorry?''

''The divorce,'' Sherlock repeated as if he should already know. ''The owner, he's going through a divorce with his power hungry wife who changed suppliers without telling him therefore forcing prices to rise to make a profit resulting in loss of loyal customers. Wife one, husband zero,''

John gave an impressed nod and continued looking over his choices on the menu as Sherlock swapped his study of the street outside to the people inside the cafe. Everyone was absorbed in their own world, eating or drinking, chatting with their friends or reading a book peacefully, but Sherlock knew almost everything about them all from the one glance it took to move past them. Then he saw her. Charlotte. Her wavy brown hair sitting just above her shoulders, acting completely oblivious to his presence and sipping at a cup of tea.

It had been over a year since his first encounter with her. It was odd being in the same room with her when she didn't have a gun pointed toward him or blood stained on her hands. There was a point to her being here, this was no coincidence. However after a group of customers walked past her table, she was no longer there.

''What?'' John asked as Sherlock stood up, alert. ''What's going on?''

Sherlock didn't want John following after him. Whatever this woman was here for, it had to do with matters created before John began assisting him with cases.

''Nothing, nothing at all,'' he lied. ''Won't be a moment,''

John already knew he was lying, Sherlock was never this pleasant when excusing himself. In fact he never excused himself.

Sherlock walked outside and pulled his coat on, looking around the corners, scanning for any sign of her. She was gone, but he knew she wouldn't be far. It only took him walking down the lane behind the cafe to find her. She was leaning back on the brick wall smoking a cigarette, ignoring the fact he was walking closer to her. He slipped his hands into his pocket and leaned back on the brick wall opposite her, mimicking her position as she looked over to him with a smirk.

''So this is what you do with your day now?'' she finally spoke, blowing smoke in his direction.

''And this is what you do with yours?''

Charlotte reached over and held out a pack of cigarettes for him to take one, noticing his obvious hesitation. She didn't move though, and soon enough Sherlock relented, lighting the white stick of tobacco.

''No case today?'' she asked casually.

''I have one pending,'' he looked over to her curiously, enjoying the smoke that he breathed in. ''Why are you here?''

''There always has to be a motive with you, doesn't there?'' she shook her head. ''I could be on a holiday,''

''Unlikely. You couldn't entertain yourself for more than five minutes,''

''Maybe that's why I'm here then, for entertainment,'' she shrugged. ''See what London has to offer,''

Sherlock didn't know what she was thinking or what she was planning to do, and he had always narrowed that down to why he was so interested in her. She rarely had a motive, she did things because she could and she worked alone, much like he used to.

Their paths crossed on a case over a year ago, and it had been a while since their last short reunion on another dangerous endeavor they'd managed to link together. Charlotte had no family and no friends, preferring to be alone for the most part, and so he struggled to understand why she would be here if there wasn't a reason. A serious reason. But he knew she wouldn't tell him if he acted curious or asked, so he ignored it for now.

''The people here really like you,'' she told him, referring to the women's conversation inside. ''Obviously you don't socialize much,''

Her wit always reminded him of Mycroft, except he sometimes enjoyed her taunts more than his brother's.

''I don't have time or patience to socialize,'' he took the cigarette from his mouth. ''Married to my work, you know that,''

''As am I,'' she shrugged. ''Yet I socialize just fine,''

''You forget you're talking to a high-''

''High functioning sociopath, I'm aware,'' she rolled her eyes. ''We're all aware,''

They stood in silence for a short while until Charlotte threw her cigarette butt on the ground, stepping on top of it and twisting it with her shoe. She looked around the corners of the small lane there were in, happy that no one else was around. Sherlock noted her caution but said nothing of it, he'd find out what was going on soon enough, when he had time to process it all.

''Well, nice seeing you Sherlock,'' Charlotte smiled over to him. ''I best be going, there's an apartment awaiting my approval,''

That caught his attention.

''Here? You're staying?''

''Of course I'm staying, I can't take in all of London in one day, what sort of holiday would that be?''

This was odd. Charlotte had never stayed in one place for longer than a few hours or overnight at most. Finding an apartment in London wasn't something she would do if she was on a holiday, in fact she would never take a holidays. Nothing added up, and he became more curious as to what she was actually doing here.

''Where are you staying?'' he asked, assuming she would have no connections around here.

''Why? Care to visit?'' she looked over to him playfully. ''I know an old lady, sweet thing she is, she offered me a place to stay and wouldn't take no for an answer. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, Sherlock,''

Sherlock watched as Charlotte walked away down the street, wrapping herself in her black coat and slipping her hands into her pocket as she became further away. He needed to know why she was here. It was something important, something big, and he could tell there was a hint of fear in her eyes as she looked around each corner and every face she passed. If she was scared of something, he knew she was involved in something big.

John had been wondering all afternoon what had taken Sherlock's attention this morning at the cafe. It wasn't unusual for him to do odd things like get up and walk out of a room suddenly, but the look on his face told John something was going on. However, when his friend returned, nothing more was said and things carried on as usual with John reading out cases they could choose from to investigate during the day.

It was late afternoon when they returned back at the flat in Baker street, but Sherlock wasn't looking forward to going to bed and sleeping. Something was on his mind, and he needed to get all the information he could find on Charlotte. There had to be something big to have happened recently to explain why she was here, and Sherlock knew how to find information on nearly everyone. Except Charlotte wasn't just an ordinary person, she was careful about herself, she made sure people didn't know things she didn't want them to know. She knew how to control how her information was found and alter it to show only what she wanted it to.

Nothing new had happened. The only articles he found in the database with her name were a few arrests she had assisted in and a few times she'd been arrested herself. There was nothing new, but it only made circumstances much more interesting.

In the morning, Sherlock was in his robe as he walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson had left a tray containing cups and and teapot. Out of habit, he assumed the clinking of a tea cup and saucer in the living room was John having awoke early, and so he continued pouring himself a cup of the hot liquid without even glancing around.

''Morning,''

Sherlock immediately turned to the voice in the living room, holding the cup tight in his hands. She looked as if she had just woken up as well. Dressed in short pants and a tank top, her hair a mess, she smiled over to his surprise, amused.

''The robe suits you,'' she nodded. ''Blue is your color,''

Trying not to seen startled by her appearance, Sherlock wandered into the living room with a cup of tea in his hands, sipping at it casually as he looked over her. She had no obvious marks on her body that indicated an uncomfortable night or any injuries that gave him any information. She wanted something from him, it was the only reason for her to be here.

''What do you want?'' he asked in a tone that implied his disinterest, sitting in his chair across from her.

''What makes you think I want something?''

''Oh please, why else would you be here?'' he rolled his eyes. ''You find it difficult to ask for my help so you continue to show up until you assume I'll offer it,''

''Not everyone needs your help Sherlock,'' she chuckled. ''I'm here for my own reasons,''

Sherlock was about to demand a straight answer when Mrs. Hudson opened the door and walked in, a happy smile on her face as she saw him and Charlotte sitting in the living room. He expected her to question Charlotte's presence since every entrance to the building was monitored by Mrs. Hudson, but she just walked over to them with her hands clutched together and her usual excitement.

''I see you've met this wonderful young lady, Sherlock,'' Mrs. Hudson, stood behind Charlotte, a hand on her shoulder. ''Isn't she lovely?''

Charlotte smiled up at the woman before she looked back over to Sherlock, satisfied with the surprise on his face, again. Mrs. Hudson seemed to adore the woman sitting in front of Sherlock, and he knew that she would have been fed a false story regarding Charlotte's reason to be here.

''Of course,'' Sherlock agreed, although his expression didn't change.

John walked into the living room moments later, pulling on his coat and seeing they had unexpected company. He glanced over to the stranger sitting in his chair sipping tea in her pajamas and looked over to Sherlock, wondering if this woman had stayed the night.

''Morning...'' he spoke with obvious confusion in his voice.

''Good morning neighbor,'' Charlotte smiled, finishing off her tea.

''Neighbor?'' Both Sherlock and John repeated.

''Charlotte's renting the flat across from you boys,'' Mrs. Hudson told them excitedly. ''She doesn't know many people around here, I couldn't let her end up at one of those dreadful flats across town. I saw them on the news, they're absolutely horrid! No place for a lovely young woman like yourself,''

''Thank you Mrs. Hudson,'' Charlotte beamed up at the woman. ''You've been too kind,''

''Yes far too kind,'' Sherlock interrupted. ''So kind I think you've forgotten my dislike toward having a neighbor,''

''Oh, Sherlock,'' Mrs. Hudson shook her head. ''Charlotte won't be any trouble,''

''No trouble at all,'' Charlotte agreed, her lips curving upwards into a smirk as she faced Sherlock.

''Well, welcome to the building then,'' John gave her a light smile, trying to finish the welcoming so that he could have his own seat back. For some reason it bothered him with someone else sitting in it. ''Hope you don't mind the occasional gunshots or violin at early hours of the morning,''

Sherlock couldn't help watching as Charlotte played her part in front of everyone, examining her expressions and movements. Of course, she knew he would be doing so, and she hid anything that would give him any indication of her lies or that there was something else going on. They both knew how the other worked, unfortunately.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really wanted to get this chapter out so you guys could see where I'm going with this. This is kind of where it all sort of begins in terms of the something big that's going on, but I'll work on that as the story continues. Anyway, if you like where this is going or are enjoying the story, please review, I want to know if anyone is interested in continuing to read. Like I said, I'm not setting out to be a popular Sherlock story, it's simply an idea I've had that I wanted to write down otherwise they'd be bottled up in my head. Thanks for reading.

An empty, abandoned car in an empty, abandoned lane. Scotland Yard must have been desperate to get rid of some cases, because Sherlock didn't see the point of him showing up for anything less than an emergency that met his standards. However when Lestrade called and told him he could use some help, John dragged him out of the flat and away from his little experiments he did to keep himself busy.

Sherlock didn't protest as much as he normally did, probably because he wanted to get away from the flat, away from his new neighbor. But there was a part of him that didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and observe what Charlotte was doing in the hopes of gaining some idea of what was really going on. So far he'd found nothing. To his surprise, she didn't leave her own flat often.

''Sherlock?''

With a shove of his shoulder, Sherlock turned to John who was standing outside of the cab, waiting for him to exit. It appeared he had spaced out for a moment, went into his own world, thinking.

''Yes,'' he nodded, stepping out of the car.

''Something on your mind?'' John asked curiously.

''There's always something on my mind,''

Sherlock walked down to where the crime scene was, tugging his coat tighter around him and adjusting his scarf. John followed behind him, not bothering to explain what he meant by something on his mind.

''Couldn't have got here sooner,'' Lestrade put his hands on his hips as he turned toward the men. ''I called you two hours ago,''

''Yes I thought I'd give you a chance to learn something and perhaps even solve the case yourself but again, wasted effort,'' Sherlock sighed. ''Let's get this over with,''

It surprised Sherlock that he hadn't had any further contact with Charlotte since the other day when she first moved into the flat across from his. It only added further to his suspicions on what she was doing here, but he saw no reason to pursue answers just yet. For all he or anyone else knew she could have been in another country right now while they all assumed she was making herself at home.

Sherlock had busied himself with experiments since the cases he got never interested him. Clients came and went, their problems solved in minutes, and John tried to encourage him to help Scotland Yard more, but Sherlock rarely took a case that didn't excite him and he especially didn't help Scotland Yard without them begging for his assistance.

''Would you mind keeping the body parts out of the fridge?'' John complained as he shut the door to the refrigerator, his appetite ceasing at the sight of eyeballs rolling around on one of the shelves.

''Where else would I put them?''

''In a lab, in a morgue, I don't know, but not where we're supposed to keep food,''

''I don't eat it,'' Sherlock shrugged.

''Well I-'' John was about to protest, but he knew it was pointless.

There was no changing how Sherlock worked when he was like this. Bored. However that didn't make it any less frustrating to deal with. John walked over and grabbed his coat, careful not to get too close to whatever Sherlock was working on.

''I'm going out for a while,''

Sherlock barely noticed John's absence from being so consumed by the experiment he was working on. It always took extra focus when working with eyeballs, they weren't very easy to get a hold of. His experiments were always for future reference or because he just wanted to, and this was how he dealt with his boredom since John had made it very clear that shooting the walls wasn't acceptable. Especially now they had a neighbor. However John had no idea what this woman was capable of and how calm she would be around gunshots, so far they hadn't delved into Sherlock's past with Charlotte. For all John knew, they'd never met before now.

Hours later, Sherlock was sitting on the couch dressed and ready to go wandering around on his own, looking at particular clues on a case he hadn't yet found interest in. John still hadn't returned and Sherlock only really noticed when he walked to the door and didn't hear his footsteps following behind. It was much needed for him to go off on his own like he used to, not that he didn't enjoy John's company and assistance, but he needed to cure his boredom more than anything.

''Sherlock?''

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, heading for the door, Mrs. Hudson's voice had stopped him when she walked out of her own flat. She had bright yellow gloves on from cleaning dishes and was waving for him to stop before he left.

''What is it?'' he asked impatiently as the old woman walked close to him.

''It's about the neighbor, Charlotte,'' Mrs. Hudson whispered as if her voice could be heard from upstairs. ''I haven't seen her in days, haven't heard a word. I don't think the door's even opened once,''

Sherlock already knew this, but he didn't understand why she was telling him this.

''No, it hasn't,'' he shook his head, stepping away toward the door.

''Sherlock!'' she stopped him again. ''What if something's happened? What if...you don't think...oh what if something bad has happened to her?''

''You mean what if she's dead? I'm sure you'd smell it by now,''

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened.

''But what else could it be?''

''Perhaps she's not as social as you'd wish, maybe you were mislead by her personality,'' he sighed, hoping this conversation would end soon.

''Won't you go up and check, Sherlock?''

''Me? You're the landlady, it's your duty,'' he protested.

''Please, Sherlock. I don't want to find...if something bad has happened,'' she shook her head, implying he had more experience with dead bodies if that happened to be the case.

Sherlock sighed heavily when he saw the worry in the woman's eyes. He wasn't sure if it was his interest in the matter which sparked his relent or because he knew Mrs. Hudson wouldn't let him walk out the door without whining more, but he soon started stepping back up the stairs to the flat across from his.

Sherlock pushed opened the door slowly, careful not to make a sound as he entered the small flat. The entry lead straight into the living room that allowed a view to the kitchen and bedroom just as his own, but he couldn't see anyone. It wasn't until he walked closer to the tiny hallway that he heard running water from the shower. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Question her about why she hadn't left her flat? Why she was acting like such a recluse? He should have left when he heard signs of her being there, his task was complete, she wasn't dead and Mrs. Hudson could stop worrying. But as always, one tiny interest led to another in the small space filled with so many things.

Stepping over the numerous newspaper pages on the floor, Sherlock came to the small table in the middle of the room that sat a tray of tea, days old, which had cigarette butts piled all around the side.

Everything else was ignored when he picked up a page from the scattered newspaper and saw Charlotte had been monitoring the recent crimes in the area. Not uncommon, but hoarding papers for days that contained the smallest of matters seemed odd, especially since she wasn't the sort of person to go after anything so simple. Like Sherlock, she only went after the big cases, the complex ones that she knew would be interesting. These were useless, but she had kept them all.

When he looked back at the small table to set the page back down, he realized what had been hiding beneath. It was obvious what it was and he couldn't help stare for a moment. It had been a long time since he'd used it, but as soon as his eyes caught it he could immediately feel the sensation in his body from memories of his past. Snow white powder sectioned off into tiny white heaps, ready, and a light trail beside it, complete. Cocaine.

He didn't even notice the water had turned off during his discovery. Slowly, he looked up to see Charlotte standing in front of him, wrapped in a white towel and hair dripping wet. It was hard not to notice the dark circles under her eyes which suggested she hadn't slept the whole time she had been here. Her expression was blank, but he could see the anger she was hiding. Now he was getting somewhere.

''You're using again,'' he spoke quietly.

''How observant of you,'' she snatched the paper from his hands, setting it on top of the powder.

Sherlock watched as her hands trembled around her body, holding the corner of the towel as she tucked it beneath the bottom layer. Her irritation, sleep deprivation, nerves, anxiety. Fear. It only took a quick scan of the bedroom when he walked in to notice the bed hadn't been used, food hadn't been eaten, most movements hadn't left the living room.

''What's going on?''

''Nothing's going on,'' she stood back, rolling her eyes and waiting for him to leave. ''What do you want?''

''Why the cocaine?'' he asked as he stood up, pacing the room with his hands behind his back as if he was interrogating a client. ''I thought your work came first,''

''Well that's where you and I differ, I can handle my habit and still function highly enough to actually do my work,''

''Wrong. You and I differ with our reasoning. You use to cope, I use to cure,'' he told her, ceasing his pace. ''Which means there's something bothering you enough to resort to drugs. In fact it's been bothering you before you came here, but it hasn't stopped,''

Charlotte ran her hand through her wet hair and shook her head. No one was ever in the mood to be analyzed by Sherlock Holmes, but stepping out of the shower to see someone had found your bad habit and began investigating your actions was probably the worst mood to experience it.

''Great work detective, did you get your fill for the day? Enough information to live off for the rest of the afternoon?'' she asked angrily, raising her voice slightly. ''Your life must be quite dull for you to be looking into mine,''

''Oh please, you're actions scream attention,'' he shook his head. ''A cry for help, even,''

''Don't flatter yourself, I wouldn't cry for your attention or your help,''

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

''Why here?'' he asked, putting his hands behind his back. ''You're scared of something, you can't sleep, you can't eat and you're taking cocaine to stay awake because you fear what would happen if you were asleep. Why did you come here to hide?''

Charlotte shook her head slightly.

''I'm not hiding,''

''Don't lie, spare us both some time and just tell me what it is you're running from,'' he moved closer. ''I could help, I could protect-''

''Don't lie,'' she shook her head with an amused chuckle. ''I don't need your help,''

They stood there for a while in silence, staring at each and other and wondering who was going to speak next. Sherlock wanted to press for answers now that he saw the toll the situation was taking on Charlotte, someone who rarely became so bothered by something as silly as fear, but he could see he wasn't going to get any more. Charlotte wanted him to leave so she could get back to her routine she'd been in for the last week, she couldn't waste time arguing with him. But now he was aware something was going on, and she knew he was going to get answers some way. She could take care of herself, she'd dealt with things like this before, getting too close to a case, the exposure, but she was going to handle it herself. Sherlock Holmes didn't have to solve everything, she was just as capable.

''What's going on?''

They both turned toward the door to the flat which Sherlock hadn't bothered to shut. Charlotte should have been alert now knowing that whoever was nearby would have heard their entire conversation, or argument rather, but both her and Sherlock instead stared at John standing out in the hall with a very confused look on his face.


End file.
